Camp Wife

My beloved Tom and I work at a summer camp. Here is a post about what my life is like during these busy months.

Summer is this:

Sun
It bakes the cloth diapers lining the fence making them hard, white. They smell like heat.
I have one pair of sunglasses. I keep them handy on the kitchen counter.
My baby rides in her stroller with the sun-shade up. And her hat on. And sunscreen on her face. It is the only way.
We squint down the white caliche roads of camp.
The dust of the road splatters on the trees and bushes. They become white ghosts of their springtime selves.
The camp boat drivers' faces turn red and then golden brown. Their faces get darker and their hair gets lighter.
It is nine o'clock p.m. and light outside.

Humidity
It is taking a nap in the afternoon with your eye makeup on and when you wake up, your vision is foggy.
There is a fire somewhere; only there's no pungent camp fire smell, and the smoke is wet.
My straight hair just got straighter.
Constant bead of sweat under my bottom lip.
My house is protected by two doors - the door I open, and the water droplet door I run into after I open the door.
In the morning, I cannot see out my windows.

Schedule
It is college, only you're working during all the parties. And during your classes. And during your study time. And you can't ever sleep in.
There's no distinguishing between nights and days. The days never end and sleep wedges in somewhere.
Everyone. Together. Always.
Up! Go! Go! Go!

Swimming Lessons
What is this heavenly cool clear liquid?
Splash!
My legs can kick!
Splash!
Turtle arms, baby, turtle arms.
Now blow bubbles!
Splash!
Can you float on your back?
A giggle. A mouthful of water.
Splash! Splash!

Afternoon Naps
Baby, you must go to sleep. And I must eat chocolate pudding a read the New Yorker.

Waffles
This is our Great Dane.
He digs himself beds to keep cool.
He is a dog giant.
He needs a big bed.
He needs multiple big beds for different times of day to make sure they're in the shade.
Our yard is now dirt.

Evening
June bugs. Pine trees. Distant laughter. Short stroll. Wet dog. Porch swing. Bird songs. Mosquitoes.
Sleepy sun. Dirty feet. Less sweat. Cabin lights.Tractor beep. Baby cry. Diaper change. Lullaby.

Music
In the evenings, I can hear worship songs at camp from my rocking chair on the back porch. I pretend like I'm there while the baby sleeps in the nursery.